


Crimson Tide

by PrimarchOmegon



Series: Blood Moon [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Blood Drinking, Captivity, Character of Faith, Churches & Cathedrals, Hope vs. Despair, Lovecraftian, Other, Religious Content, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spiritual, Suicidal Thoughts, Victorian, perhaps, sorta cryptic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimarchOmegon/pseuds/PrimarchOmegon
Summary: Part of a random collection of scenes I wrote (and that may or may not be linked) when I was in a mood and the Outer Gods started a conversation with me.Making a summary would defy the purpose, so enjoy!





	Crimson Tide

„I want to die.“  
„I know.“  
„How many days…?“  
“Twenty years.” It even slightly surprised himself saying it. Twenty whole years of being the warden of these halls, this room, and its inhabitant. Twenty whole years of having to carry out this duty, ten years of having to carry this burden.  
“I want to die.”, it said once more, its faint voice echoing from the high ceiling it hung from. He had always thought of these golden halls to be dignifyied, empowering. However, this room, no matter how much it had been adorned, no matter how expensive the heavy, silken curtains before the windows were… It reeked.  
“I know. But you can’t.” Twenty years of suffering had made all gold and silver dull and the faint rays of red sunlight did not do much but contribute to a dim, mournful environment. If he’d go out on the balcony, he’d be able to see the city. The church had been built to be the tallest building, a building of hope and faith to those who were in need of guidance. Though in these dark times, it was the only part that had still been left untouched by those foul horrors outside. They shouldn’t take money for this. But how else would they be able to afford giving out anything at all?  
“The plague will eventually get to all of us.”, he mumbled. Distant screams had become an everyday occurrence for the past ten years, when this illness had started to blossom. It had been there all along, disguised as a small ailment that could be treated easily. And then it had turned into something much more vicious, as soon as they had turned their back on it.  
The safe-haven that was this city had been praised by the church over everything. And what was left of it? A secluded, forsaken place, where the infected, the corrupted roamed the streets. Not even their most prized possession had spared them from the plague, although it kept it at bay for the most. And for those who could afford it.

  
“It’s only a matter of time.” His veins itched. They had been itching for the past two days, his body felt disgustingly hot at times and made him feverish. That was how it usually started, then the skin began ripping. However, he was also a man of faith. And he would be one when he’d die as well, there was redemption to be found. After all this time, he was convinced that they may have been forsaken by everyone else, though not by god. God had graced them with a small abatement to the fateful in order to endure this punishment. Back then, he hadn’t known what was to come, he hadn’t had the slightest idea that this divine gift had been meant as a shield for what was about to unfold.  
“And until then, you’re doing god’s work.”  
“God...?” He nodded lightly, resisting the urge to dig his fingers into the soft spots between his armor to scratch. That would only make it worse. For the past two years, he had actively resisted pulling out his teeth one by one whenever they started to prickle uncontrollably for some reason. Though unlike the victims of the disease, they hadn’t fallen out by themselves, which was even more of a sign to him. A sign that god watched over him, accepted his pain as penance.  
Finally, he tore his gaze from the curtains and the horrors it kept out of view, shifting his attention to a different kind of suffering.  
They hadn’t been able to lay it down and fit the machinery in the right places at the same time, which was why they had resorted to suspending it from the ceiling. Every now and then, they had lowered it down to clean its body, though he was the only one that had still done that, despite the fact that it didn’t seem to get dirty at all. As if dust and grime didn’t dare to set on its magnificent figure and soil its white garments. Every now and then, it lifted its head as far as it could with its remaining strength. The strands of its dark hair moved the stagnant air ever so lightly whenever it tried to look around, despite being blindfolded. And although it was kept in this dim light, its skin was of a healthy colour, proving furthermore that it was meant to last. It was meant to show them a way out of this nightmare they had been plunged into headfirst.

  
Back then, the head of the church had decided to only show it to those who were willing to leave a gracious donation in return, which he had fully agreed with. Every now and then, he still threw a coin or two into the box at the entrance, just so he would not feel guilty brushing a hand over its heavy wings. He had been able to tell that it liked that. After all, feathers weren’t like hair, they couldn’t be carded through. And his father had been in charge of the birds at the king’s court, therefore he knew how to properly handle wings with the much-needed care when touching them.  
He had volunteered to be the warden in order to atone for his sins and that he was willing to do so. At first, he had been instructed to wear a blindfold as well and plug his ears while he worked, they had said it would make it much easier until he was ready to go on without them. The past years, his faith and the agonized cries of the plague-ridden outside had steeled his soul and mind.  
“I will read you the Holy Scriptures again, should you wish for that.”, he offered, although they had been through that book a lot more than once. Sometimes, when a few of the vicars came in personally to receive their medicine, he could occasionally hear it reciting verses through its screams while he stood in the hallway, waiting in front of the door. His resolve was enforced by the fact that it sought strength from its father just as much as they were.  
“I… want to…-”

  
“I’ll read it to you later. There’s a passage that would fit quite good for today.” Over time, they had become acquainted with each other. They had talked, they had exchanged a smile here and there, perhaps a friendly gesture every now and then. Never would he have claimed to be friends with something so otherworldly, so beautifully divine, but they had been as much as his unworthy, sinful being had allowed them to be. All of that had been a long time ago, during better days. And no matter how much it came back to those times while it pleaded for death, he knew that in times of despair, a strict hand was needed to keep someone on the right track, despite their momentary lack of strength to continue. Once they had managed to walk the whole way, they would always be thankful for the slight push they had received.  
“They ordered more than usual, haven’t they?” He remembered the times when it had thrashed around in its chains at first, how they had had to bind its wings together to not accidentally suffer broken bones upon being swept off their feet while they worked. He remembered how it had shrieked when the needles had been drawing blood for the first time. As a result of a naturally high demand for a cure, they had permanently embedded the needles into its flesh in order to have some sort of control over how much blood would be drained at once, but also have a steady supply.  
They deluded it with holy water in order to sell more, a practice he did not condone. But desperate times called for desperate means.

  
He could hear the dripping ever so lightly now and then. Crimson pearls that melted into an ocean of red inside those tubes. His teeth itched. His veins burned. Though remaining faithful and loyal to god also meant only taking as much as he was allowed to, which came down to one treatment a week. A warden was needed to be in good health so that he may fight off anyone that dared taking more than they had been awarded.  
_The holy blood called for those guilty of sin._  
“The greater the being, the heavier the burden its purpose bears.” Its body twitched in its bounds upon noticing that he came towards it, chains rustling ever so erratic for each step he took. He kneeled out of habit as soon as he had reached the withered, chipped paint that marked the line of worship. It was where everyone was expected to kneel before even doing so much as talking to it, though traditions changed over time, as did rules. However, he still took the time to do things properly. It was a part of his personal routine at this point, not to mention that it felt empowering to obey the traditions in all this chaos.  
“We can only pray and hope that it will be all over soon. Those who are destined to die will die eventually. And those who are faithful enough to put their life and soul into god’s hands will be spared.” He took a moment for himself to look up at this creature. It was even more impressive up close, though he didn’t dare to look at its face directly. As a mortal soul, guilty of sin and bound by his earthly shackles, he was not worthy to look up at it that way. No, he was content with merely touching its hand after he had pressed a ritual kiss upon one of the many rosary beads that were wrapped around its stretched out arms. At times where he had been in conflict with himself, it had seemed cruel, even mocking to him that the chains forced it into a position that seemed like it was offering a hug. However, after all these years, he had realized that there was nothing gentler, nothing more welcome than this.  
_The crimson jewels hidden inside its body._

__  
He swallowed lightly, shoving two of the rosaries aside to find a good spot that wasn’t already scarred. Naturally, it flinched at his touch and so did he, not wanting to disrespect this sacred ritual they shared. He knew that, of course, he was not the only one. But nevertheless, he did feel a sense of accomplishment to be allowed to freely transgress the line of worship.  
“_Through your existence, I shall live, for you’ll live through me._“_, _he recited slowly, trying to ignore how much it shook in the iron grip of the chains that held it in place. Nevertheless, upon making the first cut, he had already lost all intention to continue his prayer. Instead, he threw his knife aside, pressing his mouth onto the wound to welcome the soothing red that filled his mouth. His whole body had ached terribly and he hadn’t even noticed until now, it was as if he had just been reminded that he was starving, that he had been starving ever since he had last been here to claim his ration for the week.  
It did not scream with him. It never had. All he got was faint crying and pleas, things that were easy to ignore.

  
Again, his teeth started prickling most uncomfortably and he dug them into the flesh beneath in order to cure the itch. He could feel the cut opening further upon his biting, more crimson gold running down his throat. Yet, they weren’t satisfied, they wanted to taste flesh, wanted to rip chunks out of this body. The blood called out to him as it burned through his body, mixing with his own. It had always been at the back of his mind ever since he had seen the mess the vicars had left. They had forgotten to send him away after they had been done once, which was why he had wanted to use this opportunity to get some extra work done. And upon entering, he had never been able to forget what he had seen. Though what had looked so obscenely shocking to him back then was no more than a dull echo of what it had originally been at this point. The creature had healed faster than expected, although its scars were reminders of what had been done to it.  
And this time, as he sunk his teeth into its flesh, ripping it apart and oh so greedily devouring what he had been involuntarily offered, it did scream for him, violently shaking in its bonds to try and free itself somehow.

_For the Holy Blood calls out to the sinners. And it swallows them whole, drowning them in the crimson tide of the blood moon._


End file.
